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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878457">Hope is the thing with feathers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio'>GufettoGrigio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Eating Disorders, Hopeful Ending, Hospitalization, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Other, Platonic Soulmates, References to Drugs, Sam is a very resilient ray of sunshine, Seasons 1 and 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:29:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the hunger that's the worst. The dizziness, the phantom ache of bruises, the emptiness deep inside his chest - all of that Sam can deal with.<br/>It's the hunger that does it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jules Bianchi &amp; Jean-Eric Vergne, Jules Bianchi &amp; Sam Bird, Sam Bird/Jean-Eric Vergne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hope is the thing with feathers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! Last race of the season, no more FE until next year, Sam is leaving Envision. Not enough? Here, have some Season 1-2 pain.<br/>Jokes aside, read the tags.<br/>READ THE TAGS!<br/>Reader warned (DO let me know if I have missed anything). Enjoy?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “Hope” is the thing with feathers - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That perches in the soul - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And sings the tune without the words - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And never stops - at all - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> * </em>
</p><p>It's the hunger that's the worst. The dizziness, the phantom ache of bruises, that particular feeling of nausea that is just that bit too high up to be only physical: all of that Sam can deal with. It's the hunger that does it. </p><p>*</p><p>It hasn't always been this way. Sam remembers turning eighteen and feeling the echoes of his soulmate’s feelings for the first time: the ghost of a caress on his cheek, the faint feeling of rain and wet clothes sending shivers down his back, his chest expanding with a phantom, elated joy. It had been normal then, the echoes a constant, white noise in the back of his mind, one he could tap in when he wanted to, warm with the knowledge that there was someone out there that would love him, that was alive with him. And if sometimes his thoughts got inexplicably dark and blurry, if it took a bit longer to get out of bed in the morning - well, Sam didn’t really mind. Then the hunger came. </p><p>It's hard to describe. All other echoes come and go - there but not there,  fairly nondescript unless he taps in - but the hunger stays there, a constant pang, an awful awareness beyond just the echo of his stomach growling. </p><p><em> Food </em> - Sam thinks as he gets into the shower in the morning.</p><p><em> Food </em> - Sam thinks as he drives the Mercedes simulator.</p><p><em> Food </em> - Sam thinks as he helps his mother clear the table after Sunday's roast.</p><p>That's when it clicks that his soulmate is not just hungry: his soulmate is starving.</p><p>It sends him off a dark spiral for a while. Is his soul mate some poor soul in Africa?  Are they homeless? Are they ill? How is Sam meant to find them? </p><p>*</p><p>Sam's life falls apart spectacularly and the hunger is still there. </p><p>He lays on the floor of his one bedroom apartment, his phone abandoned somewhere.</p><p>He is 26, unemployed and has just finished crying his eyes out to his parents. In two days, he will have no electricity. Water is to follow the day after. And he is so fucking hungry. </p><p><em> Goddammit! Just fucking eat! </em> - he begs, looking up at the ceiling. </p><p>His dream is in tatters at his feet.</p><p>He has no future. He has no money.</p><p>He goes out and buys a McDonald's anyway. Fuck his soulmate.</p><p>*</p><p>Formula E is a godsend. Formula E is a chance. For the first time in two years the hunger in Sam's belly is his own. Hunger for speed, for wins. Hunger to take this gift he has been given and make something of it. It is a whole new world, new and exciting. The cars are admittedly...well, they are what they are. But they are cars and that’s enough, Sam can work with that. They will get better. He is looking forward to it, actually.</p><p>*</p><p>Sam barely remembers watching the race. He remembers the fear, a spike of it so high, a stab so deep he thought he was going to pass out on the floor. Was it all him? He watches the replay that night, Jules' car just slipping and going off, a crane that should not have been there suddenly there. God, please - Sam begs. He will never complain about his luck or the hunger or anything else. Just God, please.</p><p> *</p><p>On his way back from Putrajaya, he goes through the airport. His flight is delayed. He sits at the gate, feet up on his suitcase. All of a sudden he is crying.</p><p>Sadness is sneaky. It catches up to you from the corners of your heart. It's there even when you can't see it, like the promise of rain on a sunny day. Maybe it's more than sadness. Sam doesn't want to think about it.  Sam hadn't even realised he had been pushing it down but now that he is crying he is not sure he can stop. Is this what he does now? Celebrate his first Formula E victory by crying in an airport lounge? What has he got to cry over? People are staring. The grief is too much, he doesn't care.</p><p>*</p><p>It's not easy. It is not. There are days when Sam is not sure if it's his emotional mess or his soulmate' s that makes it hard to get going.  Races are lost. Sam crashes the car and swears. His neck aches and he hopes his soulmate is fine. </p><p>Races get cancelled. The series tethers on the edge of disaster. Somehow, they pull through.</p><p>His soulmate is not hungry for Christmas. Sam wills himself to take it as a positive sign. His soulmate is actually eating. </p><p>He has had a bit too much Prosecco by the time it gets dark - he’s not drunk, drunk but happily tipsy, enough that his mother won’t trust him with her fancy wine glasses. Sam lays on the couch while his parents clear the table, the Circus Festival of Monte-Carlo on mute on the TV. He is sated, slightly sleepy and he gets lost watching the flickering of the fairy lights on the Christmas Tree. There’s two strands of them that his dad has bought from the corner shop, cheap green plastic flashing away. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green. They are a bit out of sync. </p><p><em> Thank you for this year. </em> - Sam thinks - <em> It has been a nightmare. So glad it’s Christmas. </em></p><p>He looks up at the star on top of the tree</p><p><em> Say </em> - he thinks - <em> Since everybody is supposed to be better for Christmas...can we have a better one next year?  Nothing crazy, no winning the lottery or shit like that. Just a year that’s not so hard, yes? </em></p><p>*</p><p>He wakes up dizzy, mouth parched, head spinning. There’s something in his mouth, like phantom fingers trying to get down his throat. His chest hurts at the echo of muscles spasming, gagging and he feels the faint aftertaste of acrid bile fill his mouth. He is throwing up at 5 am on Boxing day.</p><p>*</p><p>There are a number of unhelpful things in this world: rain when you have to race, your telephone credit running out when you are in the middle of nowhere, Sébastien Buemi staring at your food when you are trying to have lunch. Sam is not sure when his insecurity complex shifted from his height to his calories intake but he doesn't like it. He is not in any mood to humor the Swiss, though.</p><p>"What?" </p><p>Seb points to his plate, looking mildly like Sam thinks one should in front of a 2 meter spider. "What is that?"</p><p>"Broccoli."</p><p>Seb looks at him with increasing horror. Sam shrugs.</p><p>"It's food and it's healthy."</p><p>Lucas walks into the food tent, Daniel trailing happily a couple steps behind him.</p><p>"What are you moaning about now?"</p><p>Seb looks at the Brazilian then points to Sam's food. The look on Lucas' face is way too close to Seb's for comfort. Ok. Is Sam the only one not getting it? Since when do Buemi and Di Grassi agree on anything?</p><p>"It's broccoli!"</p><p>"Exactly.” - Lucas says as he snatches the plate and carries it back to the buffet. - “What are you? A sheep?"</p><p>If Sam was going to protest, a swift kick from under the table makes him desist.</p><p>They sit together afterwards which is weird. Well, the fact that Seb and Lucas are sitting together without murdering glares is weird. Maybe it's Daniel's presence or maybe they are just planning how to best stab each other with the forks. </p><p>"What is it with the vegetables, anyway?" - Lucas asks - "You are about the size of a mouse. Weight should be the last of your concerns."</p><p>"My soulmate is always hungry." - Sam admits, poking at the carrots and falafels now residing in his plate - "I end up overeating just because I want them to."</p><p>Sébastien looks up from his plate, his expression a mix Sam cannot quite place. Like he is trying to puzzle something together in his mind. </p><p>“What?” Sam asks.</p><p>Sébastien shrugs. </p><p>“Putain, there’s enough people starving in this paddock as is” - he says - “Just eat, Sam, please? And stay the fuck away from Red Bull.”</p><p>*</p><p>Hope is a flighty thing - maybe that's what Emily Dickinson meant when she said it has feathers. Sam remembers reading the poem in school and not understanding. He still doesn’t. Or maybe he just doesn’t agree. It's not like he thought Jules would just get better, he has been to the hospital, but miracles have happened - what's wrong with praying for one? </p><p>Hope is useless.</p><p>He doesn't cry at the funeral. If he stops to think about it too much he won't get back in the car and then he'll die too.</p><p>He is not quite there yet. </p><p>*</p><p>
  <em> And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And sore must be the storm - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That could abash the little Bird </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That kept so many warm - </em>
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>A new season comes and with it a new teammate. Sam really likes Jev, even if the man is an absolute mess. It’s not like Sam cannot understand him - their grief is the same, their hunger is the same, their wounds are the same, smarting and bleeding. They are taking it as it comes. Every day is a new day, further from Jules or closer maybe - Sam is not sure what he believes in anymore but crises of faith take time and effort and Sam can barely get out of bed as it is. One foot in front of the other, a day after the other.</p><p>Big dreams belong to the past.</p><p>And, somehow, as hard as it is, there are smiles too.</p><p>*</p><p>“Here!” - Jev shouts, loud over the sound of the music. He is smiling, a happy, lopsided grin that betrays just how much alcohol he has had. Sam find himself smiling too as he takes the offered glass.</p><p>“What the fuck did you give me?” - Sam chokes as the shot burns down his throat. Fuck. Jev laughs, swaying unsteadily to the music - Sam would call it more randomly falling about like a...what are they called? Not bamboo, the other ones. Reeds! That’s it. Like a reed in the wind. </p><p>“Table” - Jev says, pulling on his hand and it takes Sam a moment to get what he means because a) Jev said it in French and b) Sam is still laughing because yes, Jev is a reed, how did he not think of that before? He’s all tall and lanky with all his mop of brown hair up top. </p><p>“I am not getting on the table!” - he shouts over the music. Jev pouts.</p><p>“But you are too tiny. Up!”</p><p>“I am going to fall.” - Sam says because the floor is not too steady right now, the table is going to be even less so. He ends up on the table anyway, still holding one of Jev’s hands which is kind of awkward because Sam's too tall now but it’s also kind of nice. Then Jev stumbles and Sam almost topples to the floor. </p><p>“Jev! Fuck!” </p><p>“Désolé! Sorry. Can I come up?”</p><p>“What? Where? On the table?”</p><p>Jev nods, eagerly and somehow they manage - Sam pulling and Jev jumping - and it’s only by some sort of miracle that they both don’t fall down on their arses. What they do manage is to horribly tangle themselves into each other, Jev’s chin on top of Sam’s head and Sam’s arms wrapped around Jev’s middle.</p><p>It totally defeats the purpose of Sam getting on the table but they are both laughing too much to care.</p><p>*</p><p>They take a train for the final leg of the journey from Punta del Este to Buenos Aires.</p><p>Jev is sitting a few seats in front of him - that's what happens when you book last minute - but he has been in one of his mopey moods for a couple of days already so maybe it's for the better. The lady in front of Sam is knitting, the grey old man across from him is travelling with a fluffy small dog and Sam has made faces at it a couple times already. He should buy a dog, that would be cool, just not really feasible with all the travelling he does. </p><p>The dog comes over, tail wagging and Sam bends down to pet it only to find his entire hand covered in over-excited dog's saliva.</p><p>"I am so sorry!" - the man says but Sam shakes him off with a smile. </p><p>When Jev comes over, the dog is in Sam's lap, playing tug of war with a spare thread from the lady's knitting. </p><p>"Look at you, making new friends" </p><p>Sam smiles, growling playfully at the dog - Ronnie is his name. He offers the thread to Jev - God knows the man too could use some dog therapy - but Jev shakes his head. He sits down on the train aisle instead, long legs folded underneath him, head tilted on Sam's seat, resting just shy of Sam's thigh.</p><p>They stay like that - resting and playing tug of war with Ronnie and then, inevitably, with each other. It's only when Sam steps off the train that he realises the happiness in his chest is amplified. Bright. Echoed.</p><p>*</p><p>So. Jev is his soulmate. That...explains a lot. Because Jev is an absolute train wreck of a human being. Also, yes, Sam cares for him more than he can say. </p><p>The thing is: Sam is expected to start shouting and kiss Jev because that’s how these things go. That’s what you are supposed to do when you find your soulmate. But Sam also knows that Jev hasn’t figured shit out as to what they are to each other and that is mostly because Jev doesn’t have any of his shit figured out period. Not that Sam is that much better off, mind you, but at least on track things are going the way he wants them to so he’s happy with that. He is also not going around still wearing his old F1 racing boots - which, to be fair, Sam doesn’t have in the first place so who is he to talk but at this point he is not sure that is such a bad thing after all. But yes, Sam is not sure he should say anything right now. </p><p>He watches Jev potter around the garage, muttering something about the track while distractedly munching on a peach. He has been eating lately - at least a meal a day when he has lunch with Sam but often more because they’ll have dinner together too and sometimes breakfast.</p><p>He is not starving anymore but he is still hungry. He is also really sad. Badly sad. And angry. And disappointed. A whole tangled mess of not nice emotions that feels too much like a black hole and that Sam totally understands and probably shares, echo or not. In hindsight Sam does not know how he has not connected the dots before. </p><p>*</p><p>“Sam, are you ok?” his engineer asks as Sam walks by on his way back from the mediapen in Buenos Aires.</p><p>“Yeah, I am fine. Why?”</p><p>“You sure? It’s like 40°C out here and you are wearing a jacket.”</p><p>“I got the shivers.” - Sam admits, pulling his purple team jacket closer to himself - “Do you think I may have been out in the sun too long?”</p><p>His engineer looks concerned. “You might have. Feeling clammy? Cold sweat sort of clammy?”</p><p>“Not really. Maybe a bit?”</p><p>“Sam, just go sit down inside please?” - Alex tells him - “I swear I like this city but the heat is horrid.”</p><p>Sam kind of agrees. He goes to sit down in the shade of the garage, claiming a fresh bottle of water from the fridge. The truth is, he hasn’t been feeling well since lunch. He can’t pinpoint what it is but he feels...groggy. Like he has eaten too much of something that got stuck on his stomach. But also like he got the shivers. Maybe too much coffee? </p><p>He rests there for a few long minutes just sitting on the ground, head against the wall, taking long sips of water from the bottle. The feeling of ‘unwell’ is still there but it’s less sharp now. More unfocused, floaty. More like…</p><p>“Where’s Jev?”</p><p>* </p><p>He finds Jev. He finds Jev after running around the paddock like a madman for a good fifteen minutes. He finds Jev in the toilets and only because Sam can be awfully loud when he wants to be and has kicked and knocked on every door until Jev has eventually opened one. With blown out pupils and white as a ghost.</p><p>“What the fuck did you take?” - Sam asks before Jev can even open his mouth.</p><p>“Nothing!” Jev shouts, eyes going even wider “Nothing that the doctor doesn’t know of anyway.”</p><p>“And how much of that did you take?” </p><p>Jev just looks at him and doesn’t answer. Sam grabs him by an elbow and starts walking in the direction of the nearest ambulance.</p><p>*</p><p>Jev skips FP1 and Sam drives on no sleep because he spent the night in the hospital. He can testify that getting your stomach pumped is not a fun experience, not even by proxy.</p><p>Jev says he is good to drive for the race and Sam backs him up because the thought of Jev not being in the car and unwell - ‘black hole of destruction and despair unwell’ - while Sam is in the car and can’t do anything about it is terrifying. Alex argues against it. Jev gets mad and screams at him.</p><p>There’s a part of Sam that wants to cry. There’s also one that just wants to get in the car and drive. But that is at war with the one that is scared that if he does so he is going to find a wall and not give a shit about it. There’s also one that does not care, that just wants Jev to get back to the hospital. And one that just wants Jules back. One that wants to tear the garage apart. One that wants to hug Jev or maybe yell at him or yell at Alex. </p><p>He is going to rip if he is pulled in one more direction. Tiny little pieces of him all scattered about.</p><p>How he ends up in the car, on the grid he has no clue. </p><p>Fuck it - Sam thinks, gripping the steering wheel - Fuck it all. Just fuck it. </p><p>It all just needs to <em>stop</em>.</p><p>He breathes.</p><p>In.</p><p>Out.</p><p>And he goes green in Buenos Aires.</p><p>*</p><p>He gets out out of the car feeling like he is going to collapse. He has won and he is happy and he is also feeling like absolute shit, knackered and shattered and fried at the edges.</p><p>In parc ferme he goes through the motions - smile, jump, wave, congratulate Lucas and when Buemi reaches out, Sam hugs him. Forty-five minutes and a lap of race, forty-five minutes and a lap of furious battle but Seb holds him back. Sam feels him breathe in, turning his head so that he can rest there for a second, eyes closed. Fuck, Seb is fighting for the Championship still, isn’t he? Sam closes his eyes too and lets the tension go.</p><p>They are fine.</p><p>They have made it to the finish line.</p><p>*</p><p>He hugs Jev too, back in the garage. It’s kind of like hugging an angry scarecrow without enough padding in it but Sam will hug Jev anyway, always and Jev will take it because Sam cares and Jev does too, he really does somewhere in that swirling mess of French emotions that he is.</p><p>*</p><p><em>It won't happen to me</em>.</p><p>That's a funny thought, isn't it? It’s what people think of a lot of bad stuff - a cheating partner, a car accident, cancer. Soulmate rejection falls in that category, the category of things that are, at most, meant to happen to other people. Not to him. Maybe that's why it doesn't cross Sam's mind, even as he is screaming at Jev every fucking insult that comes to his mind. </p><p>It's the blood that startles him, blood coming out of his nose. </p><p>"This isn't over!" - Sam yells, scrambling for a tissue - "Fucking selfish, egotistical, fucking moron!"</p><p>"Oh, it is over." - Jev sneers, throwing the box of tissues at his head - "Go fuck yourself! I told you to get out my fucking way!"</p><p>Sam flips him off. Thanks for the tissues. God fuck this nosebleed. He hates Paris.</p><p>"You never listen!" - Jev rants - "You and your fucking team. The podium was mine, I deserve it, I have been trying to…"</p><p>"You are trying to do shit!" - Sam yells. Why won't this blood stop? - "You are trying to kill yourself, that's what the fuck you are doing and you are also trying to fuck me over in the process. Fuck you. You were given team orders, I could still fight for third in the Championship and you just care for a fucking podium, you son of a fucking bitch!"</p><p>Jev kicks the table, sending sectors print outs sprawling on the floor in a sad puddle of spilled Gatorade.</p><p>"Just go die, Bird" Jev yells, storming out of the garage.</p><p>The room is spinning, the blood won't stop, Sam collapses on the floor. He thinks of the hunger, fleetingly. Of how fucking unfair it is that Jev can just like that decide he's going to give up after Sam has carried them both for so long.</p><p>You fucking bastard - he thinks. As much as it hurts, he doesn't want to die. He doesn't want either of them to die.</p><p>*</p><p>He wakes up in the hospital. Alive. <em>Of course</em>. Why must French people be such drama queens? All this trouble for nothing. Sam is so going to punch Jev in the face when he sees him again. </p><p>“How are you feeling?” - Alex asks. He is one of the only visitors allowed - the team is keeping the situations as much underwrap as possible. Two drivers in the hospital in the space of four races is not good for business. It’s not good for anything really. </p><p>"I don't want Jev to leave." - Sam says. Alex just shakes his head. He looks mad and also concerned and very done. </p><p>"Echo therapy will be on the team, if that's something you want to pursue." - he says instead. He sighs - "Medical advice is that you do."</p><p>*</p><p>Echo therapy. Where does Sam even begin? Echo therapy is one of those things many people do, the Church hates and if you have money it's easier to keep quiet. In Sam’s mind it’s a problem a bit like abortion. Sam is a firm believer one should have the freedom to choose what happens to their body. Yet, he knows that if it came down to him to make a decision he would not be able to choose anything but life. Or his soulmate in this case. But the team and the doctors pretty much ordered and so Sam is here.</p><p>Echo therapy is nothing like he expected. He lays on the white hospital bed, under the white light overhead as the nurse hooks him up. </p><p>"For the pain" - she says with a smile and Sam thinks of Jules, in his white hospital bed. Dead.</p><p>
  <em> For the pain. </em>
</p><p>"It's only the first session. You may have a couple of side effects. Did you read the leaflet?" </p><p>Sam nods. He read it.</p><p>The doctor comes in again. He doesn't approve - Sam had gotten the vibe as soon as he walked in.</p><p>“Mr Bird, you understand that by going through the whole cycle of five sessions you will effectively lose all ability to feel the echoes of your soulmate? Their thoughts and feelings, happiness and life force? You will sever all bonds and emotions. <em> Permanently. </em>”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“Mr Bird, you understand they will still continue to feel yours? Feel the pain and the anger? They will <em> know </em>.”</p><p>Sam breathes. “Yes.” <em> Fuck you. </em></p><p>The doctor looks disgusted. “You will begin to really feel the effects on the echoes already after the second session. I <em> hope </em> that will give you time to <em> reflect </em>before going through with the rest.”</p><p>*</p><p>"My soulmate is mad at me".</p><p>It's half past one am in Berlin, Sam is horribly jetlagged and about 80% sure he is wearing his pyjama shirt inside out. It's also the first words Jev has properly spoken to him since Paris. </p><p>"I am not sure I care" - Sam says. It's the closest thing to the truth. Everything seems kind of flat, lately. Jev does not seem to hear him.</p><p>"Why is my soulmate mad at me? Sam, I have been trying!"</p><p>Sam shrugs. Yeah. He knows. He knows Jev has been trying, in his own mopey, moody, French way.  </p><p>He has seen it, even when he hasn't felt it. </p><p>He steps aside to let Jev in and watches him go straight for the window Sam had left open. He closes it and Sam sighs but still does the same with the door. </p><p>“I don’t know what I have done.” - Jev says, throwing his hands in the air - “Sam, I know I must not have been nice to them. I could feel them get angry and frustrated when I wasn’t eating but they always…they always forgave me. Until now.” He stops. “Do you think they hate me?”</p><p><em> No </em> - Sam thinks.</p><p>Jev doesn’t wait for an answer.</p><p>“Everybody leaves.” - he whispers. He is pacing now, a frantic back and forth between the door and the window. Sam’s room is not that big and Jev’s long legs can cover the distance in three strides tops, which would look kind of pointless and ridiculous if not for the fact that Jev looks absolutely distraught. Sam has never seen him like this, never seen him so close to the edge that Sam is not sure he hasn’t tipped over already.</p><p>“People I thought cared, they don’t. People I thought friends just abandoned me as soon as I was out of the glamour of F1. But my soulmate...Sam, are they leaving me too? <em>Now</em>?”</p><p>Is this what the echo therapy is meant to do? - Sam wonders - Stop you from feeling your soulmate fall apart in front of your eyes? Because if that’s the case Sam is glad he may have missed his third appointment and very much failed to reschedule it for any time in the next century. It’s nothing bad like the awful doctor said. It’s just useless. Yes, the second session is still close enough that he can’t <em> feel </em> Jev’s echo but caring about him? Caring is another matter.</p><p>Jev shakes his head. His pacing slows down, almost to a halt.</p><p>"It should have been Jules.” - he says - “It should have been Jules. Now it's not and they hate me." </p><p>Sam is crying. </p><p>He doesn't realise he is until he finds Jev kneeling in front of him.</p><p>"Sam?" He asks, a distinct note of panic in his voice. And Sam tries. He tries to shake the tears away, tries to choke the sobs down but he can’t. He just can’t.</p><p>Jev pulls him in, both of them going down in a mess on the floor, and he holds him, tight, enveloping the whole of Sam in his long limbs. </p><p>
  <em> Respire.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Inspirez. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Expirez. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Breathe. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sam? </em>
</p><p> "I am sorry I am not Jules." - Sam says, the words barely making it past his teeth. Against him, Jev is warm, his heart rabbit fast in his chest. - "I don't hate you." </p><p>*</p><p>You know it's bad when even Lucas Di Grassi is tiptoeing around you. Sam doesn't feel bad, not per se. Has he been snappish? Or is it just that he is...sad? Sad is probably the correct word. It feels too small, somehow. </p><p>"Jev is leaving?" - Sébastien asks him. He had popped into the garage with an offering of pastries that are really good and of which Sam does not plan to leave Jev any. Ok, untrue, maybe one.</p><p>"Yes. Just the team, though. He is staying in Formula E." </p><p>Sam himself has just found that out - never it be said that he manages to find a teammate that lasts.</p><p>"I think it's going to be good for him." - he adds. It's true. A fresh start is what Jev needs.</p><p>"What about you?" </p><p>"I am alive" Sam answers. Sometimes that's the most you can say.</p><p>The pastry is really good, though.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ve heard it in the chillest land - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And on the strangest Sea - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yet - never - in Extremity, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It asked a crumb - of me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (Emily Dickinson) </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Look, I am sorry.</p><p><a href="https://formulatrash.tumblr.com/post/183562373050/sam-bird-is-a-really-great-dude-and-you-need-to"><span>Here</span></a> have the lovely picture of Buemi and Sam hugging.</p><p>Also, if it helps any, we all know what Sam and Jev went on to accomplish after these rocky seasons so I headcanon that they are platonic soulmates and after this they fixed themselves and became an extremely strong pair. </p><p>Also (last also), the broccoli scene comes from an old interview in which Sam shows what's on his phone. Yeah, a plate of broccoli is NOT dinner Sam!!</p><p>GufettoGrigio on tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
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